Big Decisions
by mattydubsismygod
Summary: Big Decisions for Seth and Summer. I suck at titles and summaries, hopefully not at writing. Not a oneshot anymore
1. Chapter 1

Summer's hands were folded over her stomach when I glanced at her, her eyes closed beneath big, black-framed sunglasses and head tipped against the window. It had been a positively silent hundred and fifty miles. "I'm hungry," I said. "Do you mind if I stop real quick? We're going to be early."

"I want to be early," she said. "I want to make sure everything happens the way it's supposed to. I want extra time."

I reached over and squeezed her knee. "We'll have plenty of time, Sum. I promise. I'll just go through the drive-through, okay?"

"Fine." She exhaled heavily moved her knee from under my hand, angling her whole body away from me. "Quickly please?"

"I promise we have plenty of time."

"That's not what I asked. I asked you to do this quickly."

"I will."

I pulled the car into the drive-through lane, coming to rest behind a mint green minivan. "It's going to be okay, Sum. I promise."

"It's been like two minutes, and you've made me three promises. Can you just stop? If you can't stop making promises, than just stop talking. I can't take it anymore. Please." Her voice was hard and sharp

"When have I ever broken a promise to you?" I asked, looking over at her. "When have I broken a promise to you, or not followed through on anything?"

She sighed and pushed her glasses to the top of her head, looking over at me. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just bothering me, that you're calling this okay. It's not okay, Cohen. The only way I can even think about it, is to take a step back and pretend that it's happening to someone else. To pretend that it's not me, not you."

"But it is," I said. "It's happening. And it's happening because we're making it happen. Because we _made_ it happen. We made a mistake. Now we have to deal with it. But I love you. And it is going to be okay."

As the van ahead of me finally moved forward, I pulled up to the squat red speaker and rolled down my window. "Welcome to the Burger Palace would you like to try our new guacamole burger supreme?"

"I'll just have a double bacon cheeseburger, a medium order of onion rings and a Coke."

"Is that all?" Came the scratchy, staticky voice of the drive-through attentdant.

I looked at Summer. "Do you want anything?"

"I can't eat before it, remember?" She sighed and pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes. They were so dark that I could no longer see anything.

"Right. Sorry." She sighed again and turned away again. "No thanks, that's all for us."

"$7.37 please pull forward."

I couldn't yet. It was still backed up. So I just rolled up the window and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. We sat in silence for several minutes, not budging in the line. "For God's sake!" Summer yelled, throwing up her hands. "Could these fucking idiots be any slower?! Did we roll up to the fucking special education drive through? How fucking hard is it to throw a god damned cheeseburger on a grill and dump some onion slices in a vat of oil?! I could have done it six times by now!"

"Sum," I said quietly. "Hey, calm down. It won't be much longer."

"We haven't moved in like ten minutes," she snarled. I reached over and gently removed her sunglasses. Tears had gathered in those huge brown eyes, and she swiped at them angrily. "This is horrible!" She wailed. "I am horrible. We are _horrible_." She blinked at me and reached over, grabbing my hand. "I can't do this, Seth. I can't."

"We talked about this. Sum, we're nineteen. We can't _not_ do this. What are you going to do? Keep the baby in your dorm room?"

"You're right," she said. "You're right, you're right, I _know_ you're right." The minivan inched forward and so did I. "I would have made a really good mother," she whispered finally. "And you would have made a really good dad. With some work." She smiled, but it was sad. I reached over to tuck a piece of dark hair behind her ear.

"We still can, someday. We're just not ready."

A tear slid down her cheek. "I make really good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Years of practice, lots of babysitting, and I finally mastered the ratio of peanut butter to jelly. My PBJs are perfect."

"You can make me a PBJ anytime."

"And I know how to do laundry. I wash clothes without staining them pink or shrinking them. The maid taught me so I don't ruin anything when I do my own clothes in August. I know how to change a diaper without making a mess."

"You're going to make an amazing mother. Really."

"I like babies, too. I like how they smell, and how they feel in your arms, and how it's a person who loves you no matter what, and who needs you."

"I love you no matter what, Summer. _I_ need you!"

She blinked slowly at me. "It's not the same, Seth, you know it's not. A baby relies on you, it counts on you. From the moment of conception. We're already letting the kid down."

"We're not! We're not letting the kid down, there's not going to _be_ a kid!"

"But there _is_," she sobbed. "There is a kid! A kid who we're about to kill! A kid who we're about to be _late_ to kill! I swear to God if you don't get your food in three minutes, I'm getting out and walking to Fremont!"

"If I could pull out right now, I would, but I'm boxed in."

We were silent for a long time again, during which I was finally able to move one car length forward. I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and extracted a ten dollar bill, running it back and forth between my index and middle finger while Summer sniffled quietly next to me.

"I like Madison, for a girl," she said. "And Logan or Max, for a boy."

"Ella," I said. "Or maybe Emily. And Evan for a boy."

"They're all 'E' names," she said, smiling. I reached over and put my hand on her belly. "I like all of those." I let my foot off the break and we rolled forward a foot or two.

"I like Madison," I said. "Maddie." Summer nodded and I used my thumb to stroke her still-flat belly.

"I want to keep it," Summer said softly. "I know I can't. I know it doesn't even make sense, but I want to keep it."

"Summer, come on. It's not...logical. We're so young, we have school and _lives._ Do you want to be the girl who has to leave in the middle of Chem 2100 to breast feed? God! We've talked about this. I told you, I said if you want to do this, if you want to keep the baby, I'd be right there with you. But we made a choice."

"Like I would ever take Chemistry again," she muttered pointlessly.

"You know what I mean."

Finally, we pulled forward to the first window. "Thanks for waiting, $7.37," said the overweight, sweaty woman from under a grease-stained visor. She held out her meaty, damp hand and I placed the bill in it.

"$2.63," she said, shoving the change at me. I rolled the window back up. "We can't," I said again. I couldn't have a baby. I _couldn't_. I mean, I loved Summer more than anything, more than anyone, and maybe even wanted to have a child and a family and a life with her one day. But that one day was certainly not eight months in the future. Maybe eight years. But definitely not eight months. I had plans! Plans that did not include a squalling, squawking infant. Summer was only getting emotional. We'd discussed this rationally, knew that neither of us were ready for this. She didn't want to carry it to term, either. It was embarrassing. It would get in her way. And she was afraid that when it came down to it, when she had the baby, that she wouldn't be able to give it away.

"I know," she murmured hoarsely, barely able to get the words out. "I know it's the only thing that makes sense. I just didn't think it was going to hurt this much before they even take it out of me."

I leaned far over the center console and pulled her into my arms, her chest pressed hard into mine, her face hidden in the curve of my neck. Her tears were hot on my skin, her body trembling with pain. Her fingertips dug into the flesh of my back, grabbing at my tee-shirt, desperate for stability. I found myself crying too. Crying for Summer, who was so filled with love for the tiny peanut of life inside her that she could hardly breathe. I was crying for myself, for how I'd told myself I would do anything for her, but I couldn't keep her from hurting so much. For the child we'd created, dead before it even lived. For the parents we weren't going to be. For the way things had been, the way they'd never be again. For the guilt and shame and pain I hadn't allowed myself to feel until just now.

The car behind us honked, and I reluctantly released Summer, then reached out to grab my grease-spotted paper bag. I wondered what the Burger Palace kid must have thought, seeing the both of our tear-streaked faces, Summer still crying. I set it in my lap and turned back out into traffic. Summer's sunglasses were replaced, her head meeting the window once again as she turned away. But this time, when I put my free hand on her knee, she let it stay there, covering mine with hers and lacing our fingers together.

"56 miles to Fremont," she whispered, her breath puffing on the window.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was different after that day. While Summer and I drove 200 miles away so nobody would know she got an abortion, Marissa lay dying in a hospital in Orange County. Summer had slept at my house the night of the accident and we left for the clinic before the sun rose. Neil had called Summer repeatedly that day, but she didn't answer. She thought he just wanted to know where she was and she didn't want to lie to him, nor could she tell him what we were doing.

So we'd been killing our baby the morning Marissa died, and Summer never forgave herself. Or me.

She'd spent the summer months in silence or in tears, camping out at my house because Julie's fits and sobs filled hers, and Summer just couldn't deal.

Summer and Ryan became quite a pair. He would only talk to Summer about the whole Marissa-is-dead debacle, and she picked up some great brooding techniques from Ryan. The three of us settled into a quiet routine, playing video games or watching TV all day. Sometimes I would drag them to the beach or the pier or the Bait Shop, just to get them out of the house. But Summer said everything reminded her of Marissa and though Ryan never said it, I knew he agreed.

Sometimes the two of them would disappear into the pool house for awhile, I was never invited. But Summer would come up to my room after those talks and curl herself into my arms and cry. She would cry for Marissa, the best friend that she'd lost. She would cry for the baby we didn't have, cry for the relationship we both were holding onto by our fingertips.

Somehow, Summer had decided that it was her fault Marissa had died, that she lost her best friend as punishment for having the abortion. I tried to tell her no, she was wrong. I tried to tell her we made the right choice and Marissa's death was a horrible accident, but Summer said there were no accidents. She didn't believe in them anymore. There was a reason Marissa was dead, and it all came down to Summer.

The night before she left for Providence, I could feel my heart breaking. Sure I would be out there in a few months, and we would see each other in between...but Summer was broken and delicate and I didn't want to leave her alone. I sat on her bed while she was packing. In avoiding her house she'd put it off for too long and was now well behind.

"Do you think I should bring these?" She asked, holding up a pair of heeled purple sandals.

"I don't know, will you wear them?"

"They're Dior," she said, like that answered everything.

"Is that a yes?"

She sighed and threw them unceremoniously into the box she was working on. Then she sealed it with tape and uncapped her Sharpie, carefully labeling it "Shoes-CAREFUL".

"Sum your shoes aren't exactly fragile."

"There's thousands of dollars of shoes in here Cohen. And there's no price on sentimental value."

She was trying so hard to be cheerful, trying so hard to be light and playful and casual. But her eyes were dark and her laugh was fake.

"Come lay down with me," I said, patting the bed beside me.

She shook her head, flipping through the hangers in her closet. "I have to pack."

"Just for a minute?" I pressed. "You leave tomorrow morning and then I won't see you for months."

She turned around with a sad smile and walked over to the bed. "Thanks for the guilt trip, jerk."

"They're my forte." We lay down and she rested her head on my chest and draped her arm over my stomach, settling back into familiar positions.

"I love you," I murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I love you a lot."

"You too."

"And I'm gonna miss you so much."

"You too," she sighed.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"What do you mean, Cohen?" She asked, tipping her head up to look at me. "Nothing's wrong."

"This isn't how it's supposed to be, Summer. It's your last night, it's supposed to be all 'I'll miss you, I don't want to leave you, I love you' and lots and lots of sex."

"I'm sorry," she said. She sat up and straddled me, a playful smile on her face. "Lots and lots of sex?" She asked, sliding her hand under my shirt.

"And lots," I affirmed.

"Cohen, I'll miss you so much, I don't ever want to leave you, and I love you more than anything. Let's do it."

"Hi," I said groggily, answering the three am phone call without moving my head from the pillow. I'd been at Brown for weeks, and I was irritated that Seth still hadn't figured out that I was in a different time zone.

"Sorry, you're sleeping aren't you?" Seth said. "I'm sorry Summer, I forgot about the time difference."

"Yeah," I sighed, rolling over and closing my eyes. I was bone-tired and had an early morning class, but I didn't want to make him feel bad. "It's fine though, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," he said. "We didn't talk all day and then you were supposed to call me before bed, I guess you forgot?"

"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry Cohen, I was at a study session and it went way late and when I got back to my room I just crashed."

"That's okay," he said. He was quiet for a few seconds. "So, um, how was your day?"

"Fine. Busy."

"That's it? That's all I get? I've been waiting to talk to you all day, Summer. And we barely spoke yesterday because you were so busy. I just want to know what's going on with you all the way across the country."

I rolled my eyes, sitting up a little bit so I wouldn't fall asleep while I was on the phone with Seth. "Well, today, my roommate and I went out to breakfast to study for our micro quiz and the waiter hit on her, and then he took her out to a party tonight and she texted me a few hours ago to say she's spending the night."

"Wow. What a ho."

"Yeah." The waiter had actually been hitting on both of us, but there was no reason for Seth to know that. It would hurt his feelings.

"What else? How'd the quiz go?"

"It went okay," I said. "Cohen, honestly, I'm happy to talk to you but I don't want to talk about school. It'll put me to sleep. How was your day?"

"Good. I went to see Ryan at school and hung out with him for the day."

"How's he doing? I haven't talked to him in awhile."

"Better, I think," Seth said. "He likes his classes." He paused, silent for another few seconds. "He misses her a lot still. He keeps a picture of her next to his bed. He thinks about her a lot."

I hated when Seth talked about her, when he talked about Marissa. I hated for him to bring her up, because I hated to think about her. It made my stomach twist and my vision blur. "Oh," I said.

"There's this girl, Lucy, and she totally has a thing for him, but he barely gives her the time of day. She's really cute too-"

"Scuse me?" I cut in, sensing a perfect opportunity to sidetrack Seth. "She's cute?"

"Sure," he said, his voice uneasy. "Cute like a puppy or something."

"And I'm what?"

"Gorgeous. Sexy. Incredibly hot. Do I need to keep going, or have I redeemed myself?"

"Fine." I yawned. "Well stop looking at other girls while I'm not there to slap you for it, okay?"

"Sorry babe," he said. "Anyway he's just totally not into it. I'm a little worried about him."

"Seth I have to go," I said. "Can we talk tomorrow? Please? I'm just really tired."

He sighed. "Okay. Goodnight Sum. I love you."

"Love you." I snapped shut my phone and rolled to my side. He always wanted me to talk. And talking for him somehow always turned into talking about Marissa, or about the almost baby. He wouldn't let me forget.


End file.
